Be A Man
by AfewSentencesShortOfaParagraph
Summary: KC had always felt like he was standing at the beginning of a long, winding road to adulthood. Every time he tried to take a step forward, someone pushed him back.


**This is a tribute to one of my favorite characters—KC Guthrie. **

KC had always felt like he was standing at the beginning of a long, winding road to adulthood. Every time he tried to take a step forward, someone pushed him back. He was always, always, always standing at the start line; never sure how to make it to the finish.

The real irony, though, was that everyone seemed to be impatient for him impending cross.

"Oh, be a man," his father had goaded as KC became teary-eyed, trying to resist his father's rough, drunken shoving. "Men don't cry."

"Be a man!" his mother had laughed coldly, high off something KC could only guess. She shoved him in the closet and proceeded to lay out a new line of coke.

"Be a man, this is good news," the prosecutor handling his case had rolled his eyes at KC's whines when—at the age of 8—he watched his father dragged away to prison and his mother condemned to rehab.

"We'll take good care of you here as long as you behave like a man," his first foster father had scoffed, pushing KC toward his room with little regard for the fact that KC was now the only person in his life he could rely on. A lost boy, if you will. No, the foster father was in it for the money.

"Be a man," the world seemed to carelessly laugh in KC's face. "Come on, it isn't that hard."

But KC didn't know what it meant to 'be a man', let alone how to actually _be_ one. He was almost certain his father wasn't the kind of man he should become. KC didn't want to end up in jail, relying on illegal substances to create his happiness—if only for an hour or two. No, KC wanted to do it right. He just didn't know how.

He thought, as he bounced from home to home, one of his many foster fathers would be able to teach him what it meant to be a man, but KC was too shy to ask. And even if he had gotten the courage, no one would have listened. They had all made it very clear KC was to be a shadow; never heard, never a bother…only seen in the darkest corners of the house.

Eventually, at school, KC tried to learn how to be a man from the other kids. But he was mostly an outcast; smart and quiet. Still, he looked for some group that might have insight about his dilemma.

When a group of kids took interest in him—they saw him shooting hoops alone in a park, and he was good—KC made a quick assessment. These boys exuded confidence and an utter lack of interest. They were detached and sarcastic, quick to jab at each other. KC had met a lot of men, and this group of boys seemed similar…but not quite the same. They hadn't been completely hardened by the world; though at the time KC didn't know that was the difference.

He figured, if there were so many men in the world like that—maybe just maybe—that's how men were supposed to be. Perhaps he had been wrong to think all the people in his life thus far hadn't taught him anything. Maybe he just hadn't been listening.

So KC fell into the bad group. He did what they told him to—laughed at their jokes, turned a blind eye when they ripped off gas stations and random shops, memorized and started to live by their mottos. He didn't know that it was a poison, seeping through his veins, pushing him back to the starting line.

The only anecdote that kept him alive, centered, was schoolwork. He continued to excel; getting straight A's and lots of recognition from his teachers. But KC paid no mind to the fact that he was good at school. He was preoccupied learning how to _be a man_.

His new friends _did_ notice, however. They questioned KC's motives for hanging out with them. Since he was so smart, since the teachers all liked him so much, he had to be a snitch. KC swore up and down that wasn't so, pled with them not to act rashly; give him a chance to prove himself.

Happy to hear that he was so willing, KC's friends dragged him along to help with their boldest maneuver yet—they were going to steal a car.

Just the thought made KC's stomach turn, but he was desperate. He felt no closer to learning the meaning of manhood, and he was sure that going back to the lonely life he had known would certainly be ten steps in the wrong direction.

Of course, he was wrong. Because the same night he tentatively drove an antique Chevy off the lot of a dealership—his friends cheering him on from the back seat—they were pulled over by the cops. KC and his so-called friends were arrested. Ironically, KC thought he should have felt like a man then. After all, he was no better than his father at that point.

Because he was a minor, KC couldn't be sent to jail, though. He spent a little time in juvenile detention before he was let out for good behavior—sent to a group home with a strict probation.

With hope, KC moved into the over-crowded house. He thought of it as a new begging. He was back at the starting line, and this time he would not screw it up. There were a lot of nice people at the group home; some very generous men that kept an eye on all the troubled kids. They were no-nonsense and laid down the rules the minute KC had set his bags down in his new room.

It would be a place for personal growth, but not to the extent KC had been hoping for. There were too many kids for a lot of attention to be paid to each individual. Yes, there was strict monitoring of activity, but not a lot of time to bond.

Feeling a little lost in between, KC was enrolled in high school. His grades were so good he was even able to get into the gifted program. KC loved school; things were looking good for him.

The first day, though, he met a girl. Clare Edwards was awkward, innocent and just plain lovely. She intrigued KC in ways other girls he had been involved with had not. Clare was smart, interesting. It didn't take long for him to realize he liked her; a lot.

But the cruel fact about Clare Edwards was she was too good for KC Guthrie. He didn't have a clue what he was doing or where he was going in life. He didn't have a family; didn't know what it meant to be a man. Clare, on the other hand, was grounded, kind. She knew who she was—even though she underestimated herself a little—and she had beliefs. When she found out KC was a criminal, it only solidified the fact that she could do so much better.

But, the weird thing was, she didn't seem to want to do better. And, when they finally stopped dancing around each other, KC got a taste of what compassion felt like. Clare taught him what softness was; she didn't expect anything more from KC than who he was. And, for once, KC felt like he would be fine; he abandoned the desperate need to be a man and just enjoyed life as it came to him: day by day.

But life never stands still, and the cold truth was that KC wasn't done growing. He still hadn't learned how to truly be a man. And, at the time, that was okay. He was still a child, after all. He didn't need to be in a rush to grow.

Enter stage left—Jenna Middleton. She crashed into KC's life like a waterfall. She was loud and alive. Jenna overwhelmed the senses; she was wildly energetic and strikingly pretty. Everything about her drew in KC. She was a magnet and his eyes were metal. Jenna was filled with some unidentifiable essence that KC only seemed to notice because it was so lacking in his own life. Jenna was happy…and KC felt the aftershocks of that every time he was around her.

He still cared about Clare, though, and she had been so great to him. KC told himself that it would be wrong to just up and leave her because he spent too much time with Jenna on his mind. Clare had nestled herself into his life completely; she was his only constant. He convinced himself the right thing—the manly thing—to do would be to stay with Clare. To try and work things out.

So KC tried; he really, really tried.

Enter, stage right, Coach Carson. He was the first grown guy to take any kind of personal interest in KC. He seemed to genuinely care that KC improved in basketball, and—soon enough—in every aspect of life. KC had never trusted another male so completely…he figured that if anyone knew something about becoming a man, it would be his coach. He put his faith, time and energy into learning anything Coach Carson could teach him.

Even when the advice started getting a little strange—like advising KC that he was a superstar, and didn't need to deal with girl troubles—KC clung to his ideal coach. He had been let down so many times before. He refused to believe it would happen again.

So, dutifully, KC gave into his impulses and desires. He broke things off with Clare and went after Jenna. And, for a few hours, he was nothing but happy. Coach Carson had been right; Clare was a great part of his life but she had started to hold him back. Jenna was who he really wanted.

But KC's happiness was fleeting at best—his coach took advantage of his trust; pushed boundaries and limits that KC didn't know any better to avoid. KC thought it was all a part of his lesson, but he soon realized how wrong everything was. This wasn't the definition of being a man; this was pathetic and disgusting and KC wanted out.

Without realizing it, he made the first right decision—taking a few steps forward on his long path—and informed the authorities. KC was safe, and he had Jenna.

A summer passed in which KC started gaining trust at the group home. He had been the model kid, abiding by rules at school and at the home. Everything seemed to be going his way…until life threw another curve ball.

His mother was out of jail, and she was fervently trying to get ahold of KC. He was trying desperately—afraid that in her incapable hands all his progress would be lost—to avoid her. But he couldn't do that forever.

After a pointless battle against it—and a stupid, rash mistake—KC finally realized that his mother had truly changed. It was thrillingly terrifying to think that he might have a family again, and he didn't want to let himself hope, but it was really happening. So KC opened himself up again; believing that it would all be different.

And it was—it wasn't the same as having a father, but his mother was making things work as best she could. Lisa Guthrie couldn't teach KC how to be a man, per se, but she taught him about second chances, about hard work and the value of family. She gave him something stable to stand on; KC was no longer treading quicksand.

But he was still a teenager, and he still made his fair share of mistakes.

Along with the newfound stability with his mother, KC was still with Jenna. They fought a lot, but they always made up. Their relationship was crazy, like a hurricane, but it was also just as passionate and wild. KC loved the spontaneity and he was starting to think that he just plain loved Jenna.

Things were never that easy, though, and Jenna dropped a bomb on KC that changed his life forever. He was going to be a father. He still had no idea what it was like to be a man, and he was going to be expected to take responsibility for another living thing? He had no idea how! His dad—though he certainly did not deserve the title—never so much as gave him a tutorial, let alone an actual lesson, in being a father.

KC's life was suddenly spiraling out of control, and he didn't know how to stop it. He had just found a new life, and it was treating him well. He couldn't have the ripped apart again. He wouldn't.

So he did the only thing he could think…removed himself from Jenna's life.

And there he was, back at the starting line.

But KC ran with a small circle; he couldn't completely avoid Jenna or the obvious fact that the baby was his. He could pretend, but he couldn't totally escape.

Eventually the secret caught up with him, and his mom found out just why Jenna had been abruptly removed from KC's life. Lisa forced him to make an assimilation of the right choice; giving Jenna the option of support and help when she needed it.

That extra push was exactly what KC needed to realize that he couldn't just stop his feelings for Jenna. And, even though he couldn't have her without parenthood, KC finally marched forward in his journey—reaching out to Jenna and taking on the frighteningly large role of being a father.

When their son is born, KC realizes he's been assigned the task to teach this little person what it means to be a man. When Tyson grows up, KC knows he'll be looking to his father for guidance, but KC still doesn't understand what it means to be a man. He doesn't know how he'll even be a father.

Once again, KC is lost and desperate; unable to grow up and hopelessly yearning to.

All the pressure to do the right thing and be a good father paralyzed KC. He was stuck in a state of immaturity and couldn't figure out how to give Jenna or Ty what they needed. And, in an attempt to do well, KC asked Jenna and Ty to move in. But it only brought the problems and the pressure closer. KC couldn't handle it…he had to escape.

He wasn't completely irresponsible, though; he chose to get a job to distance himself. But temptation was dangled in front of his face, and KC wasn't strong enough to resist. Pacing back to the starting line, KC allowed himself to indulge in Marisol Lewis. She was fun and cute—not at all serious. And that was exactly what KC needed.

But, as he should have learned, no secret can be kept forever. Jenna found out about the infidelity, and his life started to fall apart at the seams again. Adoption was suddenly the only thing on Jenna's mind…how was KC supposed to prove that he wasn't his father if he wasn't the one raising Ty?

Everyone he loved seemed to be slipping through the cracks of his broken life. KC had screwed up, and he was paying dearly for it.

Everything happened so fast—the deterioration of his relationship with Jenna, the realization that he had messed up irrefutably, the brash, last-ditch attempt to keep Jenna and Ty around by sabotaging the meeting with the potential adoptive parents.

With a sudden realization, though, KC realized that he was behaving _exactly_ like his father. He was being selfish and juvenile. This decision wasn't about him…or even Jenna. He needed to give his child the chance he never had—to grow up in a loving family. To lead a life that was not plagued by the constant challenge of learning how to be a man without guidance. Tyson deserved better than what KC could give him.

So, in the most mature decision KC had ever made, he fixed his mistake. He made sure Ty got the chance he never would; a do-over of all do-overs.

But he still couldn't take away what he had done with Jenna.

KC was forced to start over, once again, but this time he had made it to a check point. He didn't have to go back to start. This time, KC had learned a lesson in manhood that no one could take away; it had been burned in his brain…stamped behind his retinas.

He still can't give up completely, though. Tyson is still his son, and he still wants the chance to be a father. He wants his restart to include Tyson.

But life moves on, and it does so quickly. KC soon has to face facts that he isn't needed in Ty's life. He doesn't have to walk away completely, but he has to back off. Eventually, maybe, KC will get the chance to explain everything to Tyson, but until that day comes, KC is stuck waiting; all the while giving Ty the opportunity to live.

So, with his newfound maturity and closure with Jenna and Ty, KC decided to focus on the one thing that had been there for him through it all—school. KC will make something of himself, and that's a promise. When winter break is over, KC is ready to take on academically challenging endeavors. For the first time, he is a normal teenager. His life's slow and balanced. He's happy; he grows, he runs further down the line.

KC is starting to realize that the only person that was ever standing in his way was himself; he's close to becoming a grown man. He shares responsibility with his mother, applies for college. KC knows he has made the best of what life has given him.

But then his father shows up, and after one night he's already threatening to break apart everything KC and his mom have worked for. KC will not go back to that scared little kid; he will not be forced into a closet. This is his life, dammit. He is a force to be reckoned with, and KC pities the bastard for trying to mess with him and his mother.

Finally, KC crosses that finish line with a final decision to take control of what is rightfully his. Even though he doesn't want to leave behind his friends and the one place that's ever felt like home, KC knows it needs to be done.

As he takes one final look at Degrassi, he lets himself remember. And, fuck, there are a lot of memories. Degrassi is a place where KC has grown immeasurably; he's laughed and loved. He's cried and made mistakes. He has pain and scars, but every moment is imprinted on his mind. He knows where to find them when he needs them.

And so he smiles. KC smiles because he knows he's doing the right thing; he can leave Degrassi without regret because it has changed him forever and he is eternally grateful.

KC can leave Degrassi the opposite of when he came in: a strong man, ready to take on the future with what he is proud to call his family.


End file.
